


Our Song

by TheDemonLedger



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Marriage, Nerves, Short & Sweet, So Married, Wedding Nerves, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 15:10:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19379221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDemonLedger/pseuds/TheDemonLedger
Summary: Hermione has wedding jitters that only getting married will solve. Sweet, simple one-shot of Hermione and Ron's wedding ceremony.Part of Summer of Writing - an 80 day self challenge to write every day for the entire summer.





	Our Song

**Author's Note:**

> All rights reserved to the respective owners of Harry Potter. 
> 
>  
> 
> Hi hi,  
> Thanks for reading! This story is about nothing, but it popped into my head and I couldn't get it to go away, so I figured I'd share it. Enjoy!

As normal as the day had been, Hermione was still struggling to get her mind wrapped around the idea that today she would no longer be Hermione Jean Granger, but instead would be Hermione Jean Granger-Weasley. Part of her felt the normality of it all was what was driving her up the wall; her life had never been normal, or easy, or _planned._ So the planning and the people and the helping made her feel like something was going to go wrong. Because of course it would. Because it always did. Because how could it not? All these thoughts rushed through Hermione’s head as she sat in front of her mirror staring at her reflection, trying to ignore the wedding dress hanging on the wall behind her. Ginny had already been in to talk her down twice, Mrs Weasley had rushed around for the first half-hour of the day trying to get Teddy under control, and Hermione could do nothing but sit and stare at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes looked sunken, even through her light makeup. 

“Hey,” came a voice from behind her. Harry poked his head around the door, creaking it open just a crack. “You decent enough for me to come in?” 

Hermione turned and nodded. “Please do,” she whispered. He entered the smallest bedroom in the Burrow, besides the one that he and Ron had shared in their youth. Hermione felt tired, and noticed Harry looked tired. She tightened her robe around her. 

“How are you?” he asked, sitting lightly on the edge of the bed. She shrugged. 

“I’m okay,” she said softly, turning back to face the mirror. “Just trying to psych myself up.” She paused. “Ginny send you?”

“Well,” Harry smiled and twitched his nose. “Maybe.” 

“I’m fine,” Hermione groaned. “Tell her I’m fine.” 

“She won’t let me leave until you agree to put your dress on.” Hermione’s shoulders fell. 

“It was never my idea to get married,” she whispered. 

“So if you don’t want to, go tell everyone!” Harry said, leaning forward to put a hand on Hermione’s knee. “Ron won’t stop loving you - in fact, I’m sure at this point he’ll thank you.” Hermione laughed. 

“It’s not that.” She swallowed and looked at her best friend. His hair was swept back off his face - as best he could manage, anyway - and he was wearing a white button up and slick black slacks. The Muggle dress _had_ been Hermione’s idea, for her parents and more distant relatives. It had mostly worked - her parents had kept others away until the day of the wedding, then housed them in a simple inn that sat just within the boundaries of Ottery St. Catchpole. She hoped and prayed that everyone would remember to keep the magic under wraps, but had to keep reminding herself that there would be no reason for anyone to use it. There was no war. “The last wedding we went to -” 

“I know, Hermione,” said Harry, his green eyes suddenly bright with tears. “But it will be okay, I promise.” Hermione nodded, then stretched and groaned. 

“Tell Ginny I’m ready, then,” she moaned, turning back to check her blush colored lipstick in the mirror. Harry nodded and stood. 

“I’m really happy for you, ‘Mione,” he said, then he leaned down to kiss the top of her head and turned to leave the room. Hermione stared down at the parchment on her desk now, which held her vows. She’d never been one for flowery words or sweet, overblown sentiment, but this seemed like the moment. In reading them again, however, her perfectionism kicked in and she wanted to scrap the whole thing. Her door creaked open again behind her and she looked into the mirror at Ginny. Ginny’s long red hair was wound into a simple plait, and she wore a dusty blue dress that fell just below her knees, all flowing taffeta and sharp seams; she wore tall, thick black heels that clicked with each step she took into the room. Hermione sniffed and stood. 

“I want to know what’s wrong,” Ginny said as she pulled Hermione’s wedding dress out of the plastic sheath. Hermione shook her head. 

“Oh, it’s nothing,” she replied. Ginny gave her a disbelieving look and shook her head in return. “I feel nervous, am I not allowed to feel nervous?” 

“You’re perfectly allowed to feel nervous,” Ginny replied as Hermione shed the robe she was wearing and stood in front of her in nothing but her knickers. Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and shivered as Ginny unzipped the gown. Her heart was racing, hammering faster than she could count, and the slick satin of the dresses insides felt cooling against her hot skin as Ginny lifted it up and over her head. The dress clung tightly to her chest and hips, flowing out to a train around the middle of her thighs. She slipped her arms into the lacy sleeves and felt relief as Ginny zipped the back all the way up to her neck. It was a modest gown, the same one her mother had worn, and it’s cream colored lace brought color to her washed out face. She knew that in a few hours, the day would be over and she would be married, but the long road leading up to it had been a difficult one. 

For no reason other than her own emotional strain, she’d felt that the marriage she was planning came too soon after the end of the war. Even now, five years later, Hermione still woke in the night with Bellatrix’s knife on her throat and Voldemort staring them down. She’d never expected her year with Harry and Ron to have such a profound impact on her mental wellbeing, but here she was, fighting back tears while staring in the mirror at a woman who didn’t look like her. Ginny was pinning up the last loose strands of Hermione’s hair, letting a few curly tendrils fall to frame her face. 

“Are you going to be okay?” Ginny finally asked after a few minutes of silence, a hair-pin between her teeth. Hermione nodded and sighed. 

“Is it too soon?” Hermione asked, hands fluttering to push the strands of hair from in front of her eyes. Ginny placed her hands on Hermione’s shoulders and sighed. 

“What do you mean?” Her voice was soft but the question was laced with impatience. 

“Are we getting married too soon?” Hermione clarified. “Should we have waited a little longer?” 

“Until what?” Ginny turned Hermione to face her, frowning as she ran her hands down Hermione’s arms to her skinny wrists. There, Ginny gripped her tightly and gently shook. “Until we’ve all recovered and the memories have faded?” She shook her head. “That’s a long time coming, ‘Mione. It may be too long.” Hermione fingered the edge of her sleeve and took a deep breath. Ginny turned her back around. “Can we finish getting you ready? You’re supposed to get married in about fifteen minutes.” Hermione laughed as Ginny stepped to the vanity and picked up a few wild flowers. She placed them in Hermione’s hair and then kissed her on the cheek. 

“I’ve never been more excited to have someone join my family than I am to have you. Now,” Ginny patted Hermione’s butt and shifted uncomfortably on her tall heels, “let’s get downstairs.” Ginny picked up Hermione’s bouquet and shoes and shuffled her out of the room and down the stairs. Harry waited at the bottom, bow-tie tied and suit jacket slung over his shoulder. He beamed at the sight of Hermione walking down the stairs, the train of her dress slung over one arm. 

“You look great, Hermione,” Harry said softly as she stepped onto the landing. She smiled a little at him and took a shuddering breath.

“I feel like I might pass out.” They all three laughed and walked down the rest of the stairs, to where upbeat, Muggle music and the low rumble of voices played. Hermione paused to let Ginny and Harry rouse the guests and escort everyone to their seats; Ginny set Hermione’s simple, pink heels on the ground and her bouquet on the table. She let her skirt fall and closed her eyes, trying to clear her head. It was one day - she could do one day. At the end, she would be with Ron, which is what she always, always had wanted. Even if she couldn’t control the day, she could control her head. After a few calming breaths, Hermione opened her eyes and stepped carefully into her shoes. She looked at the door to see her father standing there, a smile on his face and tears in his eyes. 

“You look beautiful,” he said with a rough voice. “I am so proud of you.” Hermione smiled as he stepped towards her, taking her arm over his. She picked her bouquet up off the table and cleared her throat. 

“Let’s go,” she said. They walked out of the house and into the backyard. Music swelled at her exit, as if summoned by her arrival, and she felt the nerves, the fear, the guilt wash out of her as she saw Ron in his dark blue suit, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears. Her father walked her slowly down the aisle, and she stopped in front of the man she’d love since she was thirteen, stepping up onto a shallow raised platform to stand facing him; she handed her bouquet to Ginny. The small, tufty-haired wizard cleared his throat. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us on this joyous occasion,” he said. Hermione stared into Ron’s blue eyes and felt a sense of peace fill her from toe to tip. Their fingers stayed entwined as they looked between each other and the officiator; she could hear her mother’s sniffles from the audience and Mrs Weasley’s light sobs from beside her. “We’ve gathered here today to join these two in marriage, the strongest bond that man can hope to accomplish. I believe the couple have vows they wish to exchange.” Hermione’s heart dropped as she realized she’d forgotten her vows on the desk in her bedroom. Ron cleared his throat. 

“Hermione,” he started, blinking away tears. “You know I’m no good at words. I just wanted to tell you how much I really love you. You’ve been a force of good since I met you twelve years ago, and I never would have thought you’d fall in love with me. Every day I spend with you is the best day of my life, even when they’re bad.” Hermione felt her throat constricting as tears started to form in her eyes. What would she say that was better than that? “I just love you.” 

Hermione stared at him, feeling unprepared and filled with love. She dipped her head and tried to think of something - anything - that would sound as good as what Ron said. After a short moment of silence, in which she fought back tears, she decided that anything was better than nothing. “I have loved you for so long,” Hermione said, lifting her head as tears began to fall from her eyes. She pulled one hand out of his to wipe them away carefully and sniffed. “You teach me new things everyday - things I never could have learned on my own. You taught me patience and humility and most of all, kindness. I don’t know who I would be without you in my life, but I am so glad you are with me.” Sniffles echoed through the crowd as Hermione took his hands in hers again. “I can’t wait to start our life together.” 

The man beside them cleared his throat and sniffed hard. “Do you, Ronald Billius Weasley, take Hermione Jean Granger to be your wife in sickness and in health as long as you both shall live?” 

Ron nodded. “I do,” he said, though his voice was a whisper, so low that Hermione could barely hear him. His own tears fell in earnest, and Hermione swallowed, trying to prepare herself for the two words that would change her life forever. 

“And do you,” the wizard started again, “Hermione Jean, take Ronald Billius as your husband in sickness and in health as long as you both shall live?” 

Hermione squeezed Ron’s fingers. “I do.” They each accepted rings from Ginny and Harry respectively, and slipped them onto the ring finger of the other’s hand. “You may kiss the bride,” the man said to Ron, who eagerly took advantage of the instruction and pulled Hermione towards him. He caught her lips in hers, a sweet, soft kiss that made Hermione feel like she was floating on water, and lifted her in a tight hug. Hermione looked out at her family as he set her down, tears glazing her face. She was tired and stressed and nearly at her breaking point, but it was all over. 

And today, Hermione knew, was the first day of the rest of her incredible life. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked, leave a kudo or a comment and let me know whassup~   
> If you want to see more of my work, go ahead and subscribe to me! I post every day in a couple fandoms (but most of my work is sort of adult!!!!)   
> Thanks for reading xx -Olive


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